


It Takes A Village

by Lady_Vibeke



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Leonard Snart Lives, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 13:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17623412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Vibeke/pseuds/Lady_Vibeke
Summary: “I'm still not sure what I'm doing here,” Leonard objects.Barry swallows and points at the paper: “Open it.”Leonard complies with a sideways glare. He unfolds the note lazily, wondering what on earth could ever link him to that thing on Barry's table, and suddenly he's not chuckling anymore. He stares at the message, then at the basket, then at the message again.He freezes.He reads the note one more time, hoping the words on it have magically disappeared, or changed into something else –anythingelse.They haven't.The inconceivable message is still there, staring right back at him in a rounded, curly handwriting that makes him want to vomit. Or maybe it's just what it says.The baby inside the basket burbles cheerfully, as if to stress the insane absurdity of the situation.He's yours. Good luck, motherfucker.





	It Takes A Village

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for how long this is. I cannot seem to come to terms with brevity, lately.

When Barry Allen called to announce that something belonging to Leonard had been dropped at his doorstep, Leonard had considered a number of hypotheses, each more absurd and unlikely than the next – a cut for an old heist he never received; a death threat; an inheritance from an unknown distant relative... anything would have made more sense than _this._

This wasn't even a remote option. What he's been staring at for a solid two minutes is way beyond his comprehension: there's a laundry basket on the coffee table in front of him, and inside it lies something Leonard can't quite wrap his mind around.

“How is this about me at all?”

Barry hands him a piece of paper folded in four. “This was taped to the basket.”

Leonard takes it. _To the hot jerk with the ice-eyes_ , it reads on the front. “Let me get this straight.” He turns to Barry: “You read this and your immediate thought was _'Hey, this must be Snart!'._ ”

“Yeah?” Barry scratches the back of his neck. “That's kinda you: hot jerk, ice-eyes... You're literally the only person I know that matches the criteria.”

Leonard smirks: so Barry Allen thinks he's hot. Good to know.

“So whoever left this knew you would know how to find me. How?”

Barry shrugs. “They probably saw us together somewhere and thought to give it a shot.”

“I'm still not sure what I'm doing here,” Leonard objects.

Barry swallows and points at the paper: “Open it.”

Leonard complies with a sideways glare. He unfolds the note lazily, wondering what on earth could link him to that thing on Barry's table, and suddenly he's not chuckling anymore. He stares at the message, then at the basket, then at the message again.

He freezes.

He reads the note one more time, hoping the words on it have magically disappeared, or changed into something else – _anything_ else.

They haven't.

The inconceivable message is still there, staring right back at him in a rounded, curly handwriting that makes him want to vomit. Or maybe it's just what it says.

The baby inside the basket burbles cheerfully, as if to stress the insane absurdity of the situation.

_He's yours. Good luck, motherfucker._

 

*

 

The only reason Leonard agrees to bring the _thing_ to the Waverider is to have Gideon run a DNA test to confirm it cannot possibly be his spawn.

Unfortunately, it takes Gideon about fifteen seconds to shatter his expectations.

“His DNA matches yours, Mr Snart, and that of one Ms Riley Chekov.” Gideon shows the picture of the girl in question on the screen: a beautiful blonde, sassy face sprinkled with freckles and bright blue eyes that pierce the screen. Leonard remembers her. Remembers how she caught his eye in that dirty pub and the feeling of her ass in his palms as he fucked her into a wall with a name on his lips that surely wasn't her own.

“Hey,” says Ray watching the picture curiously. “Is it just me or she kinda looks like-”

“Your mother,” Leonard blurts with a glare. He's pretty sure everyone is thinking what Raymond is thinking, but this is not the time to bring up Leonard's type with women. Sara, however, casts him a subtle smirk that tells him she knows exactly who the girl looks like. Leonard winks.

It's been weird for a while, between the two of them. Ever since Leonard's near-death experience at the Oculus, they've been tiptoeing along the borderline between friends and lovers, leaving their relationship basically unaltered, but with an all new additional benefit: occasional, stellar sex. Which he would very much like to maintain, and in order to do so he needs to get rid of the little guest. _ASAP._

“We need an address to return the package, Gideon.”

“There is no trace of him anywhere,” Gideon conveys. “No newborn registered as the son of a Riley Chekov or a Leonard Snart.”

“She must have given birth at home and abandoned him shortly after,” observes Zari, eyeing the squirming baby. “I'm not an expert, but he can't be more than a couple of days old.”

“Well, let's find this bitch, then, and shove the brat back into her hands.”

“I'm sorry, Mr Snart, but Ms Chekov's current location is in an obituary with three bullets in her head. She was reportedly killed last night during a robbery in a jewellery.”

An uneasy silence falls into the medbay. Leonard curses under his breath.

“That's some serious bad luck,” says Nate with a light shake of his head.

“Actually, Doctor Heywood, she was the robber.”

Everyone looks at Leonard with an expression that's half amused, half disbelieving.

“Hope your taste in men isn't as dangerous as your taste in women,” Amaya teases; Leonard casts an absent glance at Ray and Nate cooing pathetically over the baby.

“Not really.”

“So,” Sara steps forward with a sparkle in her eyes. “Our Lenny is a dad!”

“I guess congratulations are in order!” Ray chirps with a wide grin.

“Save the platitudes,” warns Leonard. “This doesn't change anything: we're getting rid of this creature right now.”

Ray's face falls and goes white: “You can't kill a baby!”

“I'm not a monster, Raymond! Gideon, set a course to a hospital, location and time of your choice.”

Sara plants her hands on her hips. “Overruled!”

Leonard scowls. “This is none of your business, _Captain.”_

“What's going to be of this kid if we abandon him?”

“Naive of you to assume I care.”

Sara pierces him with a stern glare: “You don't want him? _Fine._ But we're not abandoning your son on the stairs of a hospital-”

“Okay, let's drop him in the back alley.”

“-and while we figure out what to do with him,” Sara continues pointedly, ignoring his interruption. “He stays with us. We're all going to take care of him.”

She looks around for support and everyone agrees enthusiastically. Leonard clicks his tongue: if these fools want this responsibility, they're welcome to take it, as long as they don't bother _him._

“Count me out,” he says, then turns on his heels, hands in his pockets, and leaves the room with everyone's gazes pinned on his back.

They sting, but he's not turning back.

 

*

 

The whole team seems inexplicably enraptured by the baby.

Even Mick, who is generally only interested in money or things worth money, observes the kid with mild but definite curiosity. Leonard catches the hint of a smile before Mick meets his teasing gaze; Leonard expects him to quickly regain his usual frown, but Mick sends him a lopsided grin instead, like he knows something Leonard ignores.

“Going soft, Mick?” Leonard teases when Mick finally detaches from the babbling group. Sara is feeding the baby and apparently it's an event worth an audience.

“Kid's got your eyes,” Mick grumbles. There's an odd glint in his look.

“Does he, now.”

“I think the Captain's in love.”

Leonard glances over at Sara: she's sitting in an armchair with the baby nestled between her chest and the curve of her bent arm, feeding him the milk Gideon fabricated. Her expression is soft, almost charmed.

“I've always known she was going to dump me for someone younger,” Leonard quips, but Mick is not amused.

“You keep joking, but I know you, Snart,” he mutters. “I know what's under that bold, cheeky face of yours.”

“And that would be?”

There's no judgement in Mick's look, only sympathy. And maybe a subtle threat. “You hate your father 'cause he was a selfish asshole, but now you see that kid and you're starting to realize maybe you're not that different from your old man, and it scares the shit out of you.”

Leonard tilts his head to one side, slightly impressed by the depth of Mick's observation. It may also contain a certain extent of truth, but that is a part Leonard is not willing to discuss, not now, nor ever.

“Thank you for your valuable insight, Doctor Rory.”

Mick stares him dead in the eye. His hands raise to lie at the sides of Leonard's neck, and for a moment Leonard thinks he's going to strangle him; but then Mick squeezes his shoulders and shakes him a little with a sharp nod.

“You're welcome.”

 

*

 

It's not gonna last, he tells himself.

It works as far as the first week. After the second week, his unwavering certainty starts to crumble.

Sara is crazy about the little boy: she spends as much time as she can with him, and once he's in her arms no one can steal him from her. She's always trying to get Leonard to hold him and no matter how many times he sarcastically declines, there's always one more try.

When the kid is not in Sara's arms, he's in Raymond's. There's something about Ray that the baby finds soothing (proof that there must be a mistake, somewhere, and he can't possibly be Leonard's): it's enough for Raymond to touch the boy to stop any crying fit in a blink. Zari says it's because he's basically a giant teddy bear; Nate is pretty sure his boyfriend has magical powers; Leonard just wants to see their little guest gone. For good.

“We can't keep calling him Baby Snart. He needs a name,” says Ray one morning at breakfast. Next to him, Nate is barely awake: he and Raymond had the baby for the night and it shows.

“We're not naming him,” Leonard warns. “You name things, you get attached to them.”

Ray clutches the baby to his chest like Leonard's words could physically hurt him. “How can you be so cynical about your own child?”

“Kid's got my DNA. Doesn't make him my _anything._ He's just a by-product of an ill-advised sexual intercourse.”

Leonard intercepts a sharp glare from Sara, which he returns defiantly. He's not changing his mind just because his almost-girlfriend is giving him the cold shoulder.

“Hey, how about Lucas?” Ray suggests, as if he hasn't heard a single word of what Leonard just said.

“Lucas!” Nate lights up. “Lucas is awesome! I love Lucas!”

Leonard rolls his eyes over his coffee. _Nerds._

Sara leans over the baby and wiggles a finger caught in his tiny fist. “He kinda looks like a Daniel, to me.”

“Daniel, huh?” Ray lifts the kid in front of his face. “Dan?” he tries. “Danny?” The baby makes a soft, bubbly noise. “Hey, he likes it!”

Zari smirks with a mouth full of cereal. “Danny Snart... sounds pretty rad!”

“We're _not_ keeping it.”

“He's a person, Len. Stop calling him _it,”_ Sara scolds him. “Besides, he's kinda growing on me.”

“Please,” he scoffs, but Sara's attention is all on the baby: she's bent over him with a huge smile painted across her face that makes her look so much younger, consequently making Leonard feel so much _older._

The fifiteen-year gap between them seems impossible to bridge, sometimes, but the point right now is not a matter of age: he sees a want is Sara's eyes, an enthusiasm he doesn't share. Not this time. He and Sara have a lot in common – a troubled past, sins and crimes, more scars than they can count, a damaged soul – but the one thing she will never be able to understand is what it's like to grow up in a broken household, with a broken family.

This is Leonard's scar, and his alone.

“He's an angel.” Sara is playing with the baby's chubby hands; Raymond is grinning like an idiot, while Nate watches him in sheer adoration.

Leonard rises from his chair, stomach twisting. It's too early in the morning to put up with this bullshit.

“Len,” Ray calls after him. “Don't you even want to hold him for a second?”

Leonard stops halfway out of the kitchen; he doesn't even pretend to consider offer. “No.”

There's a second of awkward silence. Even Mick looks at him like he's a heartless monster. Oh, well.

“Your loss,” Sara makes a silly face at him, then turns to the child: “Your dad is an old grump, Danny, isn't he?”

Leonard's eyes narrow.

“Not his dad.”

 

*

 

It's 4 AM and Sara is up feeding _Daniel_ his third bottle in three hours. She looks absolutely exhausted, but this hasn't erased that small, dreamy smile from her lips.

She's different, when she's with Danny. The permanent tension in her body eases, the set of her shoulders relaxes, and suddenly her features look softer, brighter, somehow. The transformation shocks Leonard every time; he's still trying to decide whether he likes this Sara better than Captain Sara, but he's starting to realise there's not really a choice to make: there's no Maternal Sara versus Captain Sara. There is just Sara, and facets of her he still has to discover.

He's lying in bed ( _naked_ , because they had to stop in the middle of a very interesting _conversation_ so that Sara could get up and feed the kid), arms folded behind his head as he watches her sitting on the edge of the bed, Danny cradled in the crook of her arm. He's already sucked half of the bottle and is greedily working to drain it to its last drop. Sara is in awe. Leonard has a feeling he is slowly losing her to something he can't follow her into.

“You seem to have a knack for this.”

Sara's smile widens, but her eyes remain focused on the baby.

“Isn't it weird?” she asks, or just wonders, perhaps. "Someone with so much blood on their hands holding something so fragile and pure?”

“Yeah,” Leonard crosses his ankles under the sheets. “So weird.”

“I held baby you just like this,” Sara mutters. A touch of fondness laces her voice. “He looks exactly like you did.”

“Are you trying to move me?”

She almost laughs. “Are you even capable of that?”

Leonard smirks. “Fair point.” He loves how well she knows him.

Sara put the empty bottle on her beside table and adjusts Danny over her shoulder. She starts pacing the room with gentle pats on the boy's back.

“He's such a good chap.” Danny bubbles in her ear and Sara giggles. “That's right: you're a really good boy, Danny. A good, lovely boy.”

There are chances Leonard might be a bit jealous. And a bit pissed, too.

“What is wrong with you people? This guy is frying everyone's brains, around here.”

Sara sends him a teasing chuckle: “You're just jealous because you're not the prettiest on board anymore.”

He can't help but smile.

This new Sara... this is something he probably would have never got to see, hadn't this predicament occurred, and it makes him wonder about the things Sara had to give up to be where she is now.

“It doesn't bother you at all?” he inquires. After all, Sara didn't even blink when Gideon broke the happy news. Leonard would have expected a reaction from her – _any_ reaction – and _no_ reaction is actually quite disappointing.

“What?”

“That I have a child with another woman.”

“A woman _who looks like me?”_ Sara's brows arch. _“_ If anything, it's flattering.”

“Not even a little jealous?”

“No.”

Leonard brings a hand over his heart with a sorrowful grimace. “Ouch.”

“You don't even care about Danny,” Sara says matter-of-factly. “Why would I be jealous of his dead criminal mother?”

Leonard observes her hand on the baby's back, the way her cheek strokes Daniel's as she rocks him.

“Do _you_ care about Danny?”

Sara defiantly sets her chin. “What if I do?”

Leonard studies her, searching for signs that she's just messing with him. He finds none.

“I guess we have a problem.”

 

*

 

The whole team is inexplicably convinced he would be perfectly capable of raising a child, but what they're failing to take in account is that there is a basic premise to raising a child, and that is _wanting_ to raise a child.

“Why would you even _want_ me to do that?” he asks after Sara's umpteenth attempt to talk him into considering the option. “I'll screw him up.”

“No, you won't.”

“Screwing up is the second best thing I do. Third, maybe,” he adds on a second thought, sharing a sly grin with Sara.

“We have a Ray Palmer,” Sara argues. “Best moral compass you'll ever find through space and time.”

“More like moral _ass.”_

“Shut up. You _love_ Ray, don't even try to deny that.”

Leonard snorts. He _hates_ that he can't bring himself to deny that, but he can't lie to Sara. She knows him too well. He slumps into the armchair next to her and leans forward, elbows on his knees. Daniel is sleeping in his padded seat on the table in front of them.

“So,” he begins. “Let's pretend for a moment that I'm not the absolute worst choice to play daddy...” He tilts his head to glance at Sara. “Where does that leave you?”

Sara crosses one leg over the other, then flirtatiously runs the tips of her fingers up Leonard's arm. “That is one interesting question. We should definitely talk about it,” she purrs. “Once you've figured out what _you_ want.”

There's nothing Leonard needs to _figure out._ He already knows what he wants: the kid gone, his and Sara's life back to normal – bickering, kicking ass, sex, drunknen fights in seedy bars all over history, more sex – and especially he wouldn't mind to be able to get a whole night of sleep again. He's a simple man, it's not too much to ask.

“So what you're saying is: you're in if I'm in.”

Sara stands up, bends over him, hands on the armrests at his sides. “No, Lenny,” she whispers softly. “I'm already _in._ And I'll do this without you, if you don't want to have anything to do with Danny.” As if responding to a cue, Daniel starts fussing. “But in that case, as you so efficiently put it,” she brushes a quick kiss on his lips and smiles pleasantly. “We have a problem.”

She leaves him like this, dumbfounded and a little aroused, with the baby whining in his seat. Alone with his mistakes.

He doesn't have it in him – fatherhood, nurture, tenderness. There's no point in being a father if he can't be a good one. He knows better.

He raised his baby sister. He knows exactly what an awful parental figure he makes. Lisa still loves him, of course, despite everything, but this doesn't mean he couldn't have been a better brother for her. A better guide.

He's older, now, and if his dire life didn't make him wiser, at least he can safely say it made him smarter, and there is no way he could ever be a viable option for such a delicate task.

“Don't look at me like that, kid,” he says when Danny points his watery eyes on him and squirms. “I would be a lousy dad. You're better off without me, trust me.”

 

*

 

Punching a bag sounded like a great idea to vent some tension, but when Raymond enters the cargo bay with that puppy face of his, Leonard is tempted to switch to something bigger that can maybe punch him back. A nice scuffle would be very helpful, right now.

But Ray is obviously not here to provide that sort of help.

“Hey,” he begins, and Leonard instantly cuts him off:

“Not in the mood, Raymond.”

He keeps punching the bag. Ray positions himself behind it and holds it still for him.

“You need to talk,” he insists, even if Leonard is doing his very best to pretend he's not there at all. “I can see that. It's about Danny, isn't it?”

The hook Leonard lands is so violent it sends Raymond staggering back.

“Of course it's about him,” he snaps through his teeth. “Did I get any other traumas, recently?”

“It's just a baby, Len,” Ray soothes. “You don't want to be a father, I get it, but... a trauma? That's a horrible thing to call your child.”

Leonard takes off his gloves, tosses them in a corner. “I've got nothing personal against the kid.” He eyes Raymond meaningfully. “I'm just not cut out to care for people.”

A corner of Ray's mouth curls timidly. “You're such a good liar you can persuade yourself of that?”

“I can't give him what he needs, Raymond.”

“And what is it he needs?”

“Someone decent,” Leonard answers, flopping down on the closest box. “Who can raise him without making him feel like he's a waste of space.”

Though uninvited, Ray sits next to him. “Do you feel like a waste of space?” he asks without looking at him.

Leonard still wants to punch him, but he also kinda likes the sense of tranquillity Raymond's mere presence seems to be injecting in him. What two hours of kicks and punches couldn't do, Ray did in a matter of seconds.

“Don't you go all Freud on me, now,” he scoffs before things get too touchy-feely. “My miserable childhood is no mystery. That kid deserves better than me, period.”

Ray nods. “Like a large, loving family who can take care of his every need and always be there for him whenever he needs them?”

“Yes,” Leonard says before he even realises what Ray actually meant. It makes him turn to him with a scowl that is almost amused: “Oh, I see what you're doing there.”

“It's true, though.” Ray's deadly seriousness is bewildering. “There's a lot of us, here, and we all love Danny. You don't have to do this on your own.”

Their eyes lock. Leonard can tell by Raymond's expression that the idiot firmly, genuinely believes that. What a fool.

“Wrong, Hot Stuff,” he mutters in his face. “I don't have to do this at all.”

 

*

 

Around his first month, Daniel gets sick. It seems just a cold, at first, but the fever won't relent and when he starts having trouble breathing, Gideon provides an incubator where he can be kept warm and properly oxygenated.

There's always someone with him in the medbay. Sara sleeps there every night, no matter how much the others insist to take her place to let her have some rest: she just won't leave.

She's curled in an armchair with her knees bent to her chest and a face so tired and worried it makes Leonard's heart ache. He found Nate lingering on the threshold, just as tired and worried as Sara, watching from afar. He gives Leonard an acknowledging nod when he senses his presence.

“Is he gonna be okay?”

Leonard hears himself utter these words like they're from somebody else. Nate doesn't seem to notice.

“Gideon says it's normal,” he explains quietly. “His immune system is as bit weak because he isn't being breastfed.”

Leonard frowns. He folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the door-frame with a shoulder. Sara is rubbing her hands over her face; she looks impossibly small and helpless.

“Why didn't that bitch just get an abortion if she didn't give a fuck about him?”

Nate shrugs. “Maybe she tried but couldn't do it. Or maybe she was considering keeping him but realized motherhood didn't go well with her lifestyle.” He lets out a long sigh. “I guess a lot of people discover they're not fit for parenting only when it's too late.”

“Personal experience, Nathaniel?”

Nate turns to him with puppy eyes that look too much like Raymond's. These two are too soft, who even looks after them?

“My dad's always been a distant jerk,” Nate says with a slight tremble in his tone. “If you ask me, it's better to grow up without a father, rather than having one who remembers you exist only when he has to complain about you.”

“That I can agree with.”

“There's one thing I've learned about people with shitty fathers, though,” Nate adds, gazing at Leonard in a way that makes him feel uncomfortably exposed. “They'd rather die than turn out like their old man.”

Leonard smirks. The guy has remarkable dialectical skills, he has to concede that.

“I feel like I know where this is going.”

“I'm just saying, as the son of a horrible dad, I look at that little guy and all I want is to make sure he never feels as lonely and unloved as I felt as a kid. Well, not just as a kid.”

“Makes sense.”

Leonard doesn't do compassion. It tends to ruin the fun in his job and doesn't really appeal to him in general. But this is a subject he can relate to, and Nate's words are awakening something in him, something he doesn't really want to ever face again.

“I mean, if we give him up, where is he gonna end up?” Nate is watching Daniel with sincere concern contracting his features. “An institute? Foster care? What if he's adopted by someone who beats him on a daily basis and locks him inside a closet to cry himself to sleep?”

Leonard 's breath catches. He finds himself shuddering under the unpleasant effect of old, nasty memories creeping under his skin.

“Now that he's here,” Nate continues. “I sort of feel responsible for him. Don't you?”

“Not really,” he says automatically, but it's a big, fat lie.

Sweet, sensitive Nathaniel has no idea how close he went to breaking Leonard's impassive facade. His speech hit a little too close to home, for Leonard's taste, and the worst thing about it is that something did crack in him, leaving him dealing with a whole new perspective he hadn't even considered before.

He can't allow this risk of Daniel ending up somewhere unsafe. Not because the kid shares his DNA, but because he knows all too well the situation Nate just described, and he's ready to kill with his bare hands any monster who'd do that to a child. He did kill his own father, after all.

“If it was you in there,” Nate says, eyes fixed on the sleeping baby with Sara by his side. “A helpless little boy with no one to fight for you – what would you want for yourself?”

There's no need for Leonard to think: young Lenny had nothing; very little would have been enough to make him happy.

Love. Respect. Affection. A hug. Someone to tell him and Lisa everything was gonna be okay.

He got nothing of it.

Nate pats his back and his smile is so warm Leonard forgets to snarl at him.

“Danny needs you,” he says. “You can still be for that kid the man you would have wanted as your dad.”

 

*

 

There's an anachronism somewhere in Australia in 1992 and Sara decides it's Leonard's turn to stay on the ship.

“It's too hot for you, anyway,” she babbles before she and the team disembark.

Leonard doesn't have much to do except listening to the guys chattering over the comms. Since there's no one to see, he allows himself to really look at Daniel for the first time. He's been slumbering in his seat in Ray's lab for a solid three hours, which is currently his longest uninterrupted nap; he seems to like the place, for reasons no one except Raymond can comprehend.

Leonard is slightly disconcerted to realise that the kid _does_ look like him. _A lot._ Except for the blond hair, he can see himself in the little stubborn pout, in the unique down-sloping shape of his eyes – still too blue to be really like his own, but unmistakably similar.

Leonard reaches out to tentatively touch a tiny foot, he doesn't even know why. The onesie and the socks make a very thick layer between his fingers and the baby's toes. It's a funny feeling.

Daniel reacts to the touch with a faint complaining noise, but, luckily, he doesn't wake up.

Leonard has a hard time fighting back a smile.

“Sara's right, isn't she? As always. You really are a good guy.”

He runs a finger across Daniel's arm and winces when the the baby's hand closes around it. Five, perfect fingers, so small and yet unexpectedly strong.

Something warm and bright, like liquid light, starts dripping somewhere inside Leonard. He examines the foreign feeling with careful curiosity, until a spark of awareness snaps him out of his contemplation and makes him jerk away.

Daniel lets out a mild cry of complaint. Leonard steps back.

“Nice try, buddy,” he drawls. “But I'm not that easily bought.”

 

*

 

“You should give him a chance.”

“Do we really have to talk about it now?”

“This is the only moment you can't run away from this,” Sara whispers, squeezing her thighs against his sides. She grinds into him, her walls clench around Leonard, making him groan out loud, stars exploding behind his eyelids.

“That's... low...” he pants low in his throat, a sharp jerk of his hips punctuating every word. “Even... for you.”

Sara kisses him slow and sloppy, a grin plastered across her lips as she moves above him with maddening gentleness. “I know.”

With a swift movement, Leonard flips them over and pins Sara into the mattress. She smirks; before she can utter a sound, Leonard thrusts into her and savours the way her expression morphs into ecstatic bliss. Her nails dig into his back, sending a wave of pleasure through his body. He thrusts harder, and Sara's moans boost his rhythm; he kisses her neck, teeth drawing hungry lines over her collarbones on his way down to her breasts. When he takes a nipple into his mouth, Sara arches and cries, legs tangling around his ass to push him deeper inside her. Leonard muffles his moan into her neck.

“Will you at least try to hold him?” she mutters in his ear, lips brushing against his lobe in a way that nearly drives him over the edge.

“Fuck, Sara!” he grunts. He's close. So close. Sara's hands ghost down his back, a feather touch that stops abruptly over his ass, which she squeezes as her teeth bite into his shoulder.

“Promise me, Len.”

Leonard is far too gone to even know what she's saying. “Yes,” he breathes frantically, his whole body tensing in anticipation. “Yes, whatever!”

“Good boy,” she purrs, cradling his head between her hands. She pulls him down into a deep kiss; Leonard melts into it, his fingers pressing desperately into her thighs, then Sara finally graces him with an expert roll of her hips, and Leonard comes, hard and loud, only vaguely aware of Sara's climaxing scream echoing his own.

Spent and panting, he rolls onto his back at her side. Sara immediately cuddles up to him, hooks a leg across his own and splays a hand over his chest, right where his heart is still pounding against his ribs. She kisses his shoulder, then grins up at him. She's breathtaking, gorgeously flushed and sweaty, her body scattered with marks he bit and sucked into her skin.

“That – was – amazing.”

“Yeah, I sold myself to the devil for the greatest orgasm in history.”

Sara giggles, presses a kiss to his chest. “Worth it.”

Leonard runs a his fingers though her hair, pulls her up to capture her lips. “We'll see about that.”

 

*

 

It's like holding a kitten, or a crystal doll. It feels too fragile to be handled by Leonard's large, rough hands. He really wishes Sara hadn't tricked him into this.

“I'm gonna break him, I warn you.”

Sara laughs.

“No, you're not.” She adjusts his left arm around the baby's back and guides his right hand up. “Put it behind his head, it needs support.” She waits for Leonard to find a comfortable position, then, once she's sure he's not going to drop Daniel, she beams triumphantly. “Yeah, like that. See? You're holding him, it didn't kill you.”

Leonard glares. “Yet.”

Sara rolls her eyes. She sits down next to him on the couch, ropes her own arm around Leonard's. “It's not as bad as you expected, is it?”

“No. It's worse.”

“Oh, come on!” She swats his leg indignantly. “You can't be terrified of this cutie patootie.”

“Feel free to call me a coward, Captain.”

“You have a lot of flaws, Leonard Snart, but cowardice is not one of them.”

Leonard looks down: Danny doesn't appear very troubled to be held by him, but Sara still has his full attention. The kid is smitten with her just as much as she is smitten with him. If it ever truly comes to a choice, Leonard doesn't stand a chance.

“Is he supposed to be so small?”

“Gideon says he's a little underweight. He's gonna catch up.”

“He's too light. Does he even reach five pounds?”

“He's five pounds, three ounces, now!” Sara exclaims with an acute, childish voice, rubbing Daniel's belly. “Took us a while to gain these few ounces, huh? He was probably a preemie, but he's strong and stubborn,” she tells Leonard with a smile. “Just like his dad.”

Leonard has a flashback: Lisa is screaming behind a locked door while he slams his fists against it, begging his father to leave her alone, to spare her, to beat him instead. To no avail.

He feels a sting in his eyes, his heart pounding. His hands are shaking.

“Take him,” he mutters, pushing the baby to Sara.

She's puzzled by his abrupt change of mood. “Len-”

Leonard's ears are ringing, his sight blurring; his lungs feel like they've been filled with lead.

“ _Take him!”_

He shoves the baby into Sara's arms and rushes out of the room, followed by the deafening sound of Danny crying his lungs out.

 

*

 

He bolts awake with the echo of his restless dreams still raging in his head. Sara is sleeping at his side.

He sits up, pressing the balls of his hands into his eyes. There's a throbbing knot in his throat making it hard to catch his breath. He gasps for air, his chest agonisingly tight, and it takes him a moment to realise there are wet trails rolling down his face.

He dreamed of his childhood and of all the times he wished someone would come and take him away from everything – his father, their house, the awful days of his forced apprenticeship as a thief – a nightmare he once used to call life.

He hasn't forgotten what he told to his young self when he met him – a small, fragile boy with eyes as big as saucers and so much sorrow in his heart, already.

_"Don't ever let anyone hurt you. Ever.”_

Nathaniel asked what Leonard would want if he could do anything for himself as a little boy, and Leonard knows exactly the answer to this question: he would rescue himself, take young Leonard away from the crap he grew up into and give him a healthy environment, a safe haven where he could fall asleep knowing he had someone to watch over him. Lisa, too.

He would be a whole different person, now, if he could have had this chance. A better person, to be sure.

“ _No matter what, you always have to look out for yourself."_

He had forgotten how bad these dreams are, how much they seem to drain him every time. He's not a kid anymore, but the memories of his father still give him chills, still make him feel unbearably vulnerable and weak. He wouldn't wish anyone to feel any of this.

He may not know what he's doing or what he wants to do, but of one thing he's sure: he doesn't want this for his own son.

He lets his hands fall to his lap. He watches his palms, calloused and scarred, and knows his aren't the gentle hands of a father. But this is entirely his call, his choice to make: he can be the asshole he likes to sell himself as and go on with life as he knows it, or he can do the honourable thing, for once, and be to this kid the person he needed as a child.

It should be an easy decision to make.

It's not.

Why would a kid even want _him_ as a father?

 

*

 

He avoids Sara for two days straight.

He doesn't know what is wrong with him and doesn't even want to find out. He's reached that point in emotional constipation where all he can do is keep running from his feelings or get crushed by them, and he would very much like to stick to the former.

He's locked in his room when the ship gets attacked. Everything is shaking and he can distinctly hear explosions coming from an indiscernible direction.

“Gideon, what the hell is going on?”

“We are being attacked by Time pirates.”

His heart stops.

He bolts out of his room and _runs._ He blasts in the control room and finds Ray sitting where Sara should be. Nate, Mick, Zari, and Amaya are strapped into their seats. There's no trace of Sara and Danny.

Leonard is about to inquire about them, but another violent quake shakes the ship and he has to hold onto the control panel not to lose his balance. His whole body feels cold, like there's ice pumping in his veins.

Sara.

Danny.

He needs to get to them.

He needs to make sure they're safe, that they're okay.

He needs...

“I've got this, guys!” yells Ray. He's pointing their cannons at the pirate ship in front of them, which, Leonard gladly notices, is already severely damaged. “Fire, Gideon!”

The blast centers the pirates and wipes their ship one second before they get to shoot back.

There is a moment of stunned silence, then everyone breaks into an applause for Ray and Gideon.

“Enemy neutralised,” Gideon announces. “Emergency ceased.”

“Where is Daniel?” Leonard asks at once. His hands are still gripping the edge of the control panel like it's the only thing that keeps him standing.

“Captain Lance extracted him from the medbay eighteen seconds before the attack destroyed it.”

Leonard releases a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. “Is he okay?”

“Information unavailable, I'm afraid.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“My system has been severely damaged by-”

“ _Gideon,”_ he growls threateningly through his teeth, slamming his hands on the panel. _“Is – my boy – okay?”_

There's a hiss and one of the doors slides open to reveal Sara, bleeding and panting, with a white bundle clutched to her chest.

“He's okay, Len,” she says in between breaths. There's a nasty cut on her temple and another one across her arm. “I'm fine, too, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

The little smirk she addresses him would normally make him roll his eyes, but he's too relieved to see the baby safe and sound in her arms to even process her teasing. It's only when he becomes aware of the silence that has fallen that he notices everybody is looking at him with expressions very similar to Sara's smirk.

“What?”

“Nothing,” says Amaya, arms crossed, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Nate pats his shoulder with a bright grin: “It's okay, man. We're just glad _your boy_ is alright.”

 _He's not-_ , Leonard's mind starts to formulate, but he feels a strange tingle in the nape of his neck when he realises that those were actually his own words just a few seconds ago.

_My boy._

He snorts, betrayed and cornered by his own slip. Or maybe it wasn't just a slip. Whatever it was, he knows there is no way he can take it back, now.

He looks at Sara; she's staring at him with a smug face that makes him want to punch her and to kiss her at the same time. This is why he loves her, after all.

 

*

 

He tells Sara everything.

He spills out all he's been hoarding inside for decades, and once he begins, he doesn't stop until it's all out. Cards on the table, heart on his sleeve. It's terrifying, but if he doesn't trust her, he cannot trust anyone. Not even himself.

She lets him talk, holds his hand when he can't seem to find the words to go on and holds him when all is left is silence and mute tears trailing down their faces.

No one has ever seen him cry. Not even Mick.

“You are so brave,” she whispers, her forehead pressed against his. “You are brave and wonderful, my grumpy love.”

He lets out a muffled laugh. Sara just called him _love._ He must be worth something, after all, if he deserves the honour of being loved by a woman like this.

“I know you, Len.” Sara wipes the tears off his face, half with her fingers, half with her lips. “We all know you: we know what lies beneath that adorable frown of yours.”

Leonard shakes his head. “I can't do this. I've got nothing to offer to that kid.”

Sara sits in his lap, makes him look up: “Your best is all he needs.”

“My best is way below anyone's average worst.”

“In case you haven't noticed, our little messed up family doesn't really apply to any concept of average. But honestly? I think Danny would be very happy with us. All of us,” she remarks, and it's actually reassuring to be reminded that they have a whole squad of superheroes to watch their back. “How about that?”

She kisses him, slow and tender. Leonard envelopes her in his arms, breathing in her scent, listening to the calming sound of her heartbeat.

“Maybe...” He sighs. He casts a look at Danny, who is watching them from his seat on Sara's desk, and knows the decision is already made. “Maybe I could pull this off, with adequate adult supervision.”

“That's it, Len.” Sara cups his face into her hands. “That's all he needs from you. That, and a little love – which, by the way you're looking at him right now, I'm sure he won't lack.”

She follows Leonard's gaze to Daniel: he's stuffed a chubby knuckle into his mouth and there's drool all over his chin.

Sara leans forward to pick him up. She fishes a tissue out of her pocket and wipes it over Danny's face with a big, fond smile.

Leonard can hardly take his eyes off the two of them. This is something he never picturend in his life, never even wished for, but now that he has it, a part of him feels a distant longing, a desire he never knew he had, because this was never even an option.

“Pardon the interruption, Captain. You are requested on the bridge.”

Sara throws her head back and groans. “I hate being the Captain, sometimes.” She taps Danny's nose with a frustrated sigh. “Alright, sweetie, Mama's got to go.”

Leonard's brain has barely started to process what he just heard when Sara rises and places Daniel into his arms.

“You can't leave him with me!” he protests, but Sara is already on her way out.

“If you need anything, come looking for help.” She turns back for a moment to wink at him. “I'm sure you boys are gonna be alright.”

Danny suddenly seems extremely heavy. Leonard is very conscious of his own clumsiness as he tries to settle the kid into a better position. He's still afraid he might break him, or hurt him.

“Hey, kiddo,” he greets, meeting his curious eyes. “So,” he takes a deep breath, his pulse running faster. “I guess I'm your dad.”

It causes a strange flutter in his heart to hear himself say it, so he tries again, this time more thoughtfully, focusing on how each of these words seems to alter his voice to a soft tone he wouldn't have believed himself capable of: “I'm your dad.”

It's strange how he has been shying away from this for all this time and now, all of a sudden, it just feels almost natural. The fear to fuck up is still there, still burning, but Sara and the others have miraculously managed to kick some confidence into him, and, yes, he had the worst father ever, but he's nothing like him. He's going to burn the whole world down before anyone can even think of doing to his child what his father did to him.

“I know we started off on the wrong foot,” he says, and Danny rises his brows as if he could understand. “My bad,” Leonard admits. “Sorry about that.” His mouth curls. “You'll be fine, here. You're surrounded by people who adore you, I'm sure you're gonna like it. As to me...” He pauses, inhales deeply and exhales it all. “I'll do my best for you,” he promises, and the mere thought makes him proud of himself. Baby steps, right? “That's all I've got, I'm afraid. Will it do, Danny Boy? Can we make this work?

Danny is drooling again. Not because he's sucking his hand; he's kind of... giggling. He's making these cute little sounds, waving his small hands in Leonard's direction. Leonard wouldn't stifle the low laugh erupting from his lips even if he could.

Then something catches his eye.

There's a frame on Sara's bedside table, next to one of Danny's bottles, that Leonard never noticed before. He recognises at once what she's put inside it, the yellowish paper and the obnoxious curly handwriting; it brings a smug grin to his face as he looks down to Danny. He feels the liquid light again spreading inside his chest.

_He's yours. Good luck, motherfucker._

“You're mine,” he muses wistfully, running the tip of his finger over the minuscule slope of Daniel's nose. Danny's whole face scrunches funnily at the light tickle.

A small, touched smile stretches Leonard's lips. He may not be entirely immune to this kid's charm. “Daniel Snart, son of Leonard,” he drawls, just to test the ring of it. “Doesn't sound so bad, does it?”

Danny burbles, and the smile spreads uncontrollably across Leonard's face.

 _We can do this,_ he thinks, ghosting a hand over Danny's tiny head as his thumb gently strokes his forehead. He's holding a blank page, something impossibly pure and untainted, and, yes, it's scary that it will be up to him not to fuck up this kid, but he's got a good deal of parental collaborators, and he's pretty confident that, with a little team work, they can give this little guy a good, happy life.

_Welcome to the freakshow, son._

 

**Author's Note:**

> This idea caught me by surprise and I honestly wasn't sure I should write this because... well, Daddy Leonard is a lot to deal with and extremely complicated to build while maintaining the character true to himself, so I hope it makes sense. I hate babies but somehow I love my big, strong men with babies in their arms... I don't know what's wrong with me.  
> Comments are love and are always appreciated.


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